


The Moon is Beautiful Tonight

by AriadneKurosaki



Series: IchiRuki Month 2020 [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, F/M, IchiRuki Month, Not Canon Compliant, post-684
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25662487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriadneKurosaki/pseuds/AriadneKurosaki
Summary: It's been three years since Kurosaki Ichigo last saw Kuchiki Rukia.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: IchiRuki Month 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858906
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	The Moon is Beautiful Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Day 2, Fantasy vs. Reality
> 
> Content Warning: A character in this work references thoughts of self-harm. No self-harm takes place in this work.

Early morning classes at university were the worst. Ichigo usually had to drag himself from his bed and that was after hitting “snooze” on the alarm twice. Coffee was a must and most days he gulped it down burning hot on the way to class, heedless of the way it seared his throat.

But sometimes he woke early, before the sun was even up. He drifted in and out of sleep. And sometimes, just sometimes, in the haze of the space between sleeping and waking, _she_ was there. Her slender body fit against his perfectly as she curled close to him, visible in the fractured light of a streetlamp filtering in through the blinds of his tiny dorm room. Sometimes she just held him, body pressed full length against his and an arm around his waist while one of his snaked around her back to keep her tucked close. Sometimes they kissed, lips soft in the five o’clock haze.

Sometimes they did more. His hands found the modest curves of her breasts and hips, running over them with wide-eyed wonder that she was _here_ , in his bed. Her lips drifted down his skin to nip at the soft spot between his neck and shoulder, while one hand slid lower.

His fingers tangled in clothing that parted for him and slipped from her form, revealing pale skin. There were scars from years of fighting, only one of them from his blade – over her heart, where his blade had pierced her in a last-ditch effort to save her – and Ichigo kissed each one he found on his way down her body.

She gasped as he found the center of her and flung a slender leg over his shoulder, moaning his name as he licked and sucked, as his fingers slipped and thrust. Her low voice drove him onwards, pulled him in as he raised his head from between her legs and surged up her body to slant his mouth over hers. Their hips met as he slid into hot, wet heat and one arm braced her leg as her ankle rested on his shoulder.

They moved together like that, in the darkness of the early morning, until she exploded around him like a supernova and he followed, groaning her name into her mouth.

Ichigo woke with his sheets tangled around him. It was just him in the bed; there was no petite woman beside him. One arm flung up to cover his eyes against the sunlight spilling in through half-open blinds. His alarm was beeping loudly from the cheap wood nightstand. He hit the button to silence it more violently than necessary and rolled. His feet met the floor and he slumped over his thighs, hands pulling through his hair as if he could pull the fantasies from his head with them.

The war was over. He wasn’t needed in Soul Society anymore. He wasn’t even needed in Karakura anymore; his dad and sisters had bundled him off to his university in eastern Tokyo with admonitions to study hard and have fun. Rukia hadn’t visited him once in the three years since. It didn’t matter; he dreamed of her at least twice a week just the same.

Finally, Ichigo stood. He was going to be late for class if he didn’t hurry. He stripped the damp sheets from the narrow bed with a grimace and bundled them into his hamper for later. He grabbed mostly-clean jeans from the floor and a faded shirt from an unfolded pile of laundry. His toiletries caddy was by the door and he took that too on his way grab a quick shower.

Class served as a distraction, at least. Just like in high school he had a reputation not of his own making, being thought of as a punk and a gangster. Sometimes, he amused himself by wondering what his classmates and teachers would call him if they knew that he was dangerous for an _entirely_ different reason. The professors, at least, usually figured out fairly quickly that there was a brain in his head.

When he got back to his dorm at the end of the day, it was already dusk. Ichigo threw his bag on the floor and fell onto the bed without turning the lights on. The comforter was pulled up – which was strange, he’d stripped the bed but hadn’t remade it. And something in his room felt…

Ichigo opened his eyes. She was perched on his desk chair, a little smile on her lips. “Rukia…?” He sat up straight and stared at her. “What are…I mean, are you really here?”

“Of course I’m really here, idiot.” Rukia’s eyes were soft despite the insult.

“I missed you.”

“Don’t say it like that, all sad and mopey.” Rukia tried to kick his shin, but Ichigo caught her foot in his hand and held her ankle.

“Do you have to kick me every time you see me, midget?” He looked down and let go of her ankle. “Not that you bothered to come see me in the last three years.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping, but plastered a smile on her face. “I wanted you to live your life, Ichigo. You shouldn’t have had to fight our wars. And look! You’re in university now. You have a normal life now!” Rukia finished brightly. Her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I didn’t want a normal life,” Ichigo growled. He looked back up at her and his heart _cracked._ He reached for her and pulled her into a kiss before he thought better of it.

As kisses went it didn’t start out quite right; Ichigo was all lips and teeth against Rukia, who for a long moment was passive in his arms, apparently shocked by the way he’d crossed the line after so many years of staying just on the other side of it.

But then her arms came up around him and she fitted her mouth to his, tongue darting out to find his while her hand scrubbed through his hair and brushed down his neck as if to gentle him.

When their lips finally parted, they were both breathing heavily. Ichigo’s eyes were deepest amber, pupils blown wide and reflecting her. “If you didn’t want a normal life why did you leave Soul Society?” Rukia asked, voice a little rough. She loosened her fingers, which were clutching his shirt so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

“It was made clear that I wasn’t needed or wanted. Kyōraku practically kicked us all back through the Senkaimon.” The words came out roughly and lingered in the air between them. “And dad always wanted me to go to college, so…here I am.”

“That isn't true,” Rukia protested. Then she blushed. Ichigo’s arm had tightened around her waist and he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers.

“Isn't it? You didn’t come see me for three years,” he pointed out.

“I…” Rukia huffed, sending his bangs fluttering. “The Seireitei was a disaster after you killed Yhwach, and the squads were decimated by the Sternritter. With Captain Ukitake gone I’ve been rebuilding the Thirteenth with Kiyone and Sentarō.”

Ichigo nipped at her bottom lip. “I would have helped. I could still help if you let me.” This close to her he could see the deep shadows beneath her eyes and the lines of stress at her mouth, even in the relative darkness of his room.

She sighed again. “Ichigo, you’re still alive and you’re in university.”

“You’re repeating yourself. And so what? I’m still a Shinigami, even if I’m a substitute.” Ichigo shifted his weight and suddenly they were both lying on the bed, Ichigo on his back with Rukia draped over him.

“Ichigo…” Rukia shifted atop him, hips pressing against his more firmly. It made them both gasp a little.

“Hm?” He lifted one hand from her waist to brush a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “There a rule against holding you?”

“No, but I’m still a Shinigami and you’re technically still alive,” Rukia reminded him. She earned another nip to her lower lip for that.

“I don’t have a life here, Rukia. I go to class, I come back here. I do homework. Believe me, I’ve thought more than once of getting into Soul Society the old-fashioned way,” Ichigo said, his tone even rougher.

Tears gathered at the corner of Rukia’s eyes and she tried unsuccessfully to blink them away. “Fool, don’t _say_ things like that. I swear, I take my eyes off of you for five minutes and you…”

Ichigo brought a finger beneath Rukia’s right eye and gently brushed away the wetness gathered there. “Yeah. All these years later I’m still lost without you,” he admitted, and kissed her again.

Rukia’s hand came up to support Ichigo’s neck and she leaned down into kiss, sighing into his mouth as the hand on her waist rubbed up and down her back. Her hips squirmed against his as she opened her mouth to him, letting him slip his tongue into her mouth before she did the same to him. Ichigo groaned against her lips and his hand slid from her back to her hip, stilling her.

“Rukia,” he said quietly when she opened her eyes to look at him. They were both breathing heavy and her cheeks were flushed. “This isn’t…casual for me. If you don’t want this, we – we should stop.” Ichigo took a deep breath to steady himself and let his hands fell away.

In the low light Rukia stared down at him, amethyst eyes dark and pupils wide. Ichigo could trace the expressions on her face. But finally she said, “I want this. I’m not…I’m more than a little lost without you, too. We’ll figure the rest out.” Her lips lowered to his again and Ichigo rumbled approval in his chest.

His arms came up around her and as the sun set and the moon began its rise, Ichigo rolled them so that Rukia was on her back and began to kiss his way down her throat.

Much, much later, when they were tangled together with skin against skin and Ichigo’s comforter covering them, they watched the moon rise through the window across from his bed. His hand came up to stroke her forearm and Ichigo whispered, “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” against Rukia’s temple.

She glanced up at him and curled closer. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “And I can die happy.”

Ichigo kissed her temple again and silently thought that for once, reality was much better than his fantasy. Then he said, “I thought you’re already dead, though.”

Rukia pinched his side so hard that he yelped. “It’s _poetic_ , idiot.”


End file.
